


It's My Life

by Shadow_Silvertongue1



Series: Start a Fire Series [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: AU, Adventure, Alcohol, Ball, Crime, F/M, Freedom, Hurt/Comfort, OOCness, Romance, Start a Fire Universe, Violence, Weapons, altered timeline, creepy guys, dance, flames, mafia, no Cradle Affair, sorry - Freeform, wonky timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2018-12-01 16:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Silvertongue1/pseuds/Shadow_Silvertongue1
Summary: Spin-off prequel of the 'Start a Fire' universe, part one. Zelmira Pasolini is up to mischief now that she's allowed out of the house after her sixteenth birthday ball and introduction to Mafia Society. However, despite her new freedom, there's a danger lurking that she's only half aware of. Rated T for language and (possible) violence.





	1. The Ball

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a spin off prequel-type fic of the drabble song-fic ‘Start a Fire’ and goes into what Zelmira Pasolini, my OC and the lover of Xanxus, was getting up to in the three years before they met as well as the day they did so. This fic will probably not be any longer than five chapters. Translations at the end.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN KHR OR THE SONG THAT INSPIRED THIS FIC (IT’S MY LIFE BY BON JOVI). I ONLY OWN THE OC’S AND THE LAPTOP THAT THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN ON.

_It's my life_  
_It's now or never_  
_I ain't gonna live forever_  
_I just want to live while I'm alive_  

**IMLKHR**  

Chapter One 

**_Zelmira, age fifteen to sixteen_ **

 

“Papa! Why won’t you let me leave the manor?”

“It’s too dangerous _mia figlia_ ; you would get hurt. I don’t want to lose you like I lost your mother.”

“But _ho quindici anni_ , papa! I can take care of myself!”

“I know you can _mio cara_ , however my answer is still no.”

“Papa, it’s not fair! I haven’t any friends and everyone else my age is allowed to go out but you keep me locked away like a bird in a gilded cage!”

“How about I make you a deal then, _mia figlia_?” Don Pasolini sighed; this argument had been going on and on since his daughter had turned fourteen and he was getting tired of it. He’d been protective of her since her mother, his wife Elvera, had been killed by assassins when their daughter was seven.

“What sort of deal, papa?” Zelmira asked warily.

“You wait until your sixteenth birthday when we have a celebration ball, like a debutante. This will serve to introduce you to our Famiglia’s allies and the neutral Famiglia’s. You keep up your studies, ballet and self-defence with your tutors or the celebration will be postponed until you’re seventeen. After the ball, you’ll be allowed to spend a few hours each day out of the manor while you’re under guard.”

“Fine, I guess I can agree to that; I doubt you’d let me try to convince you to change it up a little bit…like the no guard thing.”

“You’d be right about that. Until you’re married, you aren’t leaving this manor without a guard or escort. You’re my only child and the heiress to the Pasolini Famiglia; you’ll be the Sesta Pasolini Donna. If I lose you, the Famiglia dies out and our territory absorbed by the closest Famiglia, the Giordano, which is currently ruled by Don Marco Giordano and he’s a violent asshole. If he got hold of our territory, he’d likely start a war with the Russo Famiglia for their territory which would bring the Vindice down on them.”  Luciano told his daughter, frowning lightly.

“I think I understand, papa. I’m going to go read for a while.” Zelmira sighed, leaving his office. Luciano was glad she didn’t make more of a fuss; he was stressed enough with Giordano Ottavo pressuring him for his daughter’s hand which would never happen.

_‘I need to contact Cavallone Nono. Having his support should make Giordano Ottavo back off for a while at least.’_ He thought as he returned to his paperwork.

* * *

**_Six months later…_ **

 

Zelmira wiped away the fog on the mirror from the shower after wrapping her towel and bathrobe around her. It was her sixteenth birthday, the day of the ball; she’d be introduced to the rest of the allies and neutral Famiglia’s that her papa interacted with.

“Miss Zelmira! It’s time to get dressed; you’re expected in your father’s office in an hour and we have yet to do hair and makeup!” her personal maid, Elena, called after knocking on the door.

“I’m coming, Elena.” She replied, walking from the bathroom and into the private sitting room of her suite. Elena had her sit down so her hair could be done before guiding her into the walk in wardrobe which also contained her vanity and left her to apply her makeup and put her undergarments on.

“Are you ready to put on your dress, miss?” Elena asked, knocking on the door and opening it.

“Oh! Yes; your help is much appreciated Elena. I have no idea how I’d manage to get this monstrosity on without you.” Zelmira joked. In truth, her gown was gorgeous. Pale blue with a white Victorian pattern on both the skirt and bodice and trimmed in a periwinkle blue, long sleeves that started at the shoulder and decorated with the same pattern, and a ruffle over the main skirt in the same periwinkle that the dress was trimmed in; and of course, because the dress had a full skirt, there were a lot of under layers she had to deal with which was why she needed Elena’s assistance in the first place. Once dressed, she made her way to her father’s office.

“Ah, Zelmira; you look lovely _mia figlia_!” Luciano exclaimed as she walked through the open door. Zelmira graced her father with a beatific smile as she took a seat on the chaise lounge off to the side of his desk.

“Thank you, papa; you look nice too.” She replied. His tux was black and accented with emerald green cufflinks, waistcoat and bowtie; it’d been one of her mother’s favourite colours on him and suited his wavy blond hair, brown eyes and pale complexion well.

“Well, I suppose we should head down to mingle with the first of our guests; it’d be rude to keep them waiting.”

“Of course, papa.”

* * *

“Well, you’re looking lovely tonight _mio cara_.” Came a deep, oily voice to her left as she stood in front of the drinks table despite there being a few waiters walking around with trays of drinks and finger foods. Zelmira turned to find Don Giordano standing at her elbow, a glass of merlot in hand as he leered at her.

“Thank you, Don Giordano. I appreciate the compliment but if you’d excuse me, I need to return to my father’s side; he has yet to finish introducing me to the other Dons and their families.” She replied softly, slightly repulsed by his presence. He was one man that she’d like to avoid at all costs given his reputation for violence and warmongering.

“Ah, but surely you could spare a few moments to converse with me?” he asked, eying her chest as he moved to stand closer, a hand reaching to grip her elbow and guide her to a more secluded corner.

“Perhaps I could but only for a few moments; I would be remiss in my duties as a good hostess otherwise and I do really have to return to my father’s side shortly. I told him I’d be but a few moments.” Zelmira agreed reluctantly.

“Of course, _mio cara_ , I completely understand.”

“If you don’t mind, please refer to me as Miss Pasolini. Now what was it you’d like to discuss with me, Don Giordano?”

“Oh, just our potential upcoming marriage.” He spoke quietly, his free hand moving from her elbow to the bared skin above the neckline of her dress. She jerked back quickly and forced herself to remain calm.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. My father has mentioned no such thing and I am very aware that such an arrangement would benefit your Famiglia more than it would mine.” She replied stiffly.

“Yes, well; even heirs and heiresses aren’t privy to everything their Don’s decide. I had a very informative discussion with your father earlier and he agreed that there was some benefit in our marital union.” He replied with a smug smile.

“Perhaps, however you forget that as my father’s only child; he tells me a lot more than most other Don’s would tell their heirs. Now if you would excuse me, I must return to my father; and rest assured, I shall be discussing this with him at a later date, Don Giordano.” Zelmira replied coolly, moving away from the man but before she could get too far, he gripped her elbow tightly and whispered,

“I shall have you as my bride and your Famiglia’s territory eventually, _mio cara_. You can be sure of that.” Tugging her arm from his grip, she resisted the urge to shiver at his ‘promise’ and made her way towards the centre of the room where couples were talking and dancing.

“Excuse me, Miss Pasolini.” Came a new baritone voice; startling her from her thoughts. Turning, she caught sight of a man who appeared to be about eight to ten years older than her.

“Yes? I’m afraid I have yet to be introduced to everybody, so, unfortunately, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, of course. I’m Aldo Cavallone, older brother to Dino Cavallone and heir to Don Cavallone; pleasure to meet you, Miss Pasolini.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, Mr Cavallone; I’m Zelmira Pasolini but please, call me Zelmira.” She replied with a smile, lifting her hand to shake his only to be briefly surprised when he placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“You may address me as Aldo then, since you've given me the privilege of using your name; and may I ask if you'd allow me this next dance?” He said, indicating towards the orchestra up on the mezzanine floor that was playing the beginning strains of the next song.

“Of course; I would be delighted, Aldo.” Accepting his hand and allowing him to guide her onto the dance floor proper, she smiled and gave a little wave at her father who she could see talking to a couple of other Dons.

* * *

“So, _mia figlia_ , did you enjoy the ball?” Luciano asked his daughter as they reclined on the chaise lounge in his office, the door closed and hot chocolates in their hands; Zelmira tucked into his side and under a light blanket.

“Yes, papa. It was a lot of fun. I enjoyed dancing with Aldo Cavallone, he’s a really good dancer and an even better conversationalist.” She replied, taking a sip of her hot drink.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“Don Giordano spoke to me briefly earlier this evening when I was getting something non-alcoholic to drink.”

“Oh? What did he have to say?” he frowned.

“He said you’d talked about my possibly marrying him for the benefit of our Famiglia’s.”

“Over my dead body, will he ever have your hand in marriage.” He growled darkly.

“Papa, please don’t say that. We’re part of the Mafia and it could happen far more quickly than either of us would like.” She replied, worry coating her voice.

“What else did he say?”

“H-he said he’d have me for his b-bride and our territory e-eventually. Papa, I’m scared as to what that m-might mean. He’s o-one of the f-few that knew of m-my existence before t-the ball tonight.” She whispered.

“Don’t worry _mia figlia_. We’ll be fine.” He replied, taking her drink and setting it on the coffee table next to him and wrapping his daughter in a hug, comforting her.

“I trust you, papa.”


	2. Meeting the Tutor from Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s chapter two, lovelies! Enjoy!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN KHR OR THE SONG THAT INSPIRED THIS FIC (IT’S MY LIFE BY BON JOVI). I ONLY OWN THE OC’S AND THE LAPTOP THAT THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN ON.

* * *

**_Zelmira, age sixteen to seventeen_ **

 

Zelmira grinned to herself as she pulled on her favourite black jeans and tank top, shoving a similarly coloured cashmere sweater into a small backpack along with her mini first aid kit, flashlight, pepper spray and water bottle. Tucking her favourite knives into her boots and a smaller set into her thigh holsters, she donned the pack, tied her hair into a plaited bun pinned up with some sharp hairpins and pulled on her boots before quietly walking over to her bedroom window which overlooked the tiled roof and the trellis that supported her late mother’s favoured white roses.

“Hm; time to go.” She whispered, opening her window and swinging her legs over the window sill, pausing to leave a thin buffer so she’d be able to open the window again from the outside and slid down to the ledge below before closing the window and continuing her way down to the ground and then out to the side exit that no-one really used or checked often. Sneaking out was all too easy.

‘ _Sorry, papa but the three hours I’m allowed out of the manor while under guard is far too short._ ’ She thought as she ran from the property.

* * *

Sitting on the bench in the shade of the tree dressed in a bright blue summer dress, her guards in various positions behind her, she watched a couple of people slightly older than her run, jump and dodge around obstacles in their path with fascination.

“Hey, Ezra?” she called out to the guard closest to her. He turned to her and sat down on the bench next to her.

“Yes, Miss Pasolini?”

“Ezra, how many times do I have to ask you to call me Zelmira?” she huffed in exasperation causing him to chuckle, “Anyway, what is it they’re doing?”

“Many, many times Miss Pasolini; and it’s called parkour.”

“Hm; do you think my father would let me try it? It looks like a lot of fun.”

“Maybe but it’s entirely up to him so you’d have to ask.” Ezra replied, glancing at his charge momentarily before returning his gaze to the young men and women that were doing parkour. Zelmira hummed softly and then stood; Ezra and the other three guards standing and snapping to attention around her.

“I think I would like to grab a bite to eat before we return home. Would that be alright, Ezra?” she queried, stretching her arms upwards and turning to look at the man in charge of her safety.

“We have half an hour left, so I don’t see why not, Miss Pasolini.” He replied, consulting his watch. “Where would you like to go?”

“How about that little café we drove past on our way here? I think there was a bookstore right next door.” She suggested with a bright smile.

“I believe I know the one you’re referring to. Come, let’s get going.” Ezra noted, walking her back to the car parked at the side of the road and opening the door for her; the only female and one of the male guards climbed into the back seat with her while Ezra and the final guard both climbed into the front, Ezra at the driver’s seat. He proceeded to drive back the way they’d come and stopped outside the café and bookstore; turning to his charge, he spoke “Is this the café you were referring to?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed delightedly, hurrying to get out of the car and ignoring the chuckles of her guards. The all got out of the car and followed her at a more sedate pace as she entered the café, placing themselves at strategic points around the café so they could safely watch over their charge as she bounded up to the counter and ordered a drink and chocolate _biscotti_ ; having finished her order, she took the offered table number and moved to sit next to Ezra.

“Happy?” he asked, amused at her enthusiasm.

“Definitely; though I wish I had some friends my age to hang out with.” She agreed, with a small sigh.

“Don’t worry too much, _principessa_ ; it’ll happen eventually.” He soothed.

“I hope so.” She answered just as the waitress came over with her order.

“Here you go, miss; your cappuccino and chocolate biscotti.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, miss.”

The next half hour passed too quickly for Zelmira’s liking but she still had to return home at her father’s request. He’d been acting odd lately, mostly because he was terrible at surprises, so she figured that was something he’d been organising for her given it’d been three months since her birthday ball. Sedately walking into the front entrance of the manor, she glanced around and noticed nothing different, despite her instincts telling her otherwise.

“Miss?” a maid spoke up as she walked towards her.

“Yes?”

“Your father has requested your presence in his office immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Satisfied that the maid had delivered her message, Zelmira walked up the grand staircase onto the mezzanine, onto another staircase and into the hallway that led to her father’s office. Brushing down her dress, she knocked on the door politely and waited for a moment before hearing a quiet, “Come in, Zelmira.”

She giggled and opened the door, closing it softly behind her and making her way to the chaise lounge to the side of his desk, absently noticing the apparent infant sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk and a pink haired young woman in the other.

“Zelmira, this is Lal Mirch of CEDEF and Rosalia Bianchi, daughter of Don Bianchi. Lal, Miss Bianchi; this is my daughter, Zelmira.” Luciano indicated each of them as he said their names.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, Zelmira.” Rosalia replied with a smile while Lal Mirch just nodded. Zelmira turned to her father curiously, causing him to smile.

“I suppose you want to know why I’ve called you here, _mia figlia_?” he asked, getting a big nod in response. “Well, I’d like to introduce you to your two new tutors. Lal is on loan from CEDEF for the next six months to get your exercise and self-defence skills up to par and Miss Bianchi is here to give you lessons on Mafia History, Etiquette and whatever else she can think of, or you’d like to learn, as well as to be your first connection to the Mafia that is your age.” He explained.

“So, I essentially get a friend and a trainer?”

“Yes, essentially.”

“Awesome!”

“Don’t say that just yet, Miss Pasolini. I was the leader of COMSUBIN prior to going Flame Active and joining CEDEF; I’m sure you’ll be calling me the ‘Trainer from Hell’ soon enough.” Lal Mirch spoke up, her voice high but strong.

“I’ve heard of your reputation, Lal Mirch, so I have no doubts about it.” Zelmira grinned.

“Perhaps now is a good time to get to know each other and for us, as tutors, to find out what you already know?” Rosalia suggested, glancing at Don Pasolini before looking back at the Pasolini heiress. Don Pasolini nodded,

“That sounds like a good idea. I would recommend sitting out in the Rose Courtyard for this first meeting. I’ll have Jerome and Elena attend to you.” He replied, effectively dismissing them from his presence. Zelmira quickly skipped over and gave him a quick hug before guiding her guests out of the room and showing them to the Rose Courtyard that her late mother’s white roses covered. One of the trellises there was close to the roof where she’d escaped from her room the previous week.

There they sat for the rest of the afternoon discussing various things and testing out her self-defence and combat levels (once she’d changed into her workout clothes). By the end of the day, Zelmira was exhausted while both Rosalia and Lal Mirch were satisfied that they had discovered all of what their new student (and friend) knew and where they had to take it from there.

‘I think I might leave learning parkour and sneaking out to the weekends.’ She thought as she collapsed tiredly onto her bed, having dragged herself up the many stairs to her room.

* * *

_**Eight months later...** _

 

"GODS DAMMIT, LAL!" Zelmira shouted, chest heaving as she dodged flying knife after flying knife. At least her ballet lessons and mediocre parkour skills were coming in handy, now she just had to figure out a way to get out of the bloody wind tunnel with flying knives that the corridor to her bedroom had become.

"You know the rules, Pasolini!" Lal Mirch called out from the safety of her students bedroom. The heiress didn't know it yet, but once she'd managed to complete this version of the wind tunnel without injury, she'd be doing it with weights added to her clothes and strapped to her limbs. Lal had almost forgotten how much joy she got out of tort-tutoring others in combat as she spent most of her time at CEDEF cleaning up after that idiota, Iemistu rather than training the new recruits. She shuddered at the thought of the mess she'd had to clean up once the six months was up; now she only came to train Zelmira during the weekends when Iemitsu was off doing who knew what for the Vongola.

"OF COURSE I KNOW THE RULES! THEY WERE THE FIRST THINGS YOU DRILLED INTO MY HEAD WHEN WE STARTED THIS FARCE YOU CALL TRAINING...MORE LIKE BLOODY TORTURING!" Came Zelmira's reply over the noise of the wind tunnel. Ten minutes later, she reached the bedroom door, grabbed hold of it and slammed it shut behind her as she crawled through the doorway. Lal looked her over and not spotting any injuries, let out a pleased nod of approval.

"Now you've managed to complete the wind tunnel course, and in a decent fifteen minutes too, you'll be doing it next weekend with weights stitched into your clothing and a weights strapped onto your limbs. For now, though, you have poison lessons with Bianchi. I estimate another five months of this and you'll have a majority of the basics down enough that your father need no longer hire more tutors." Lal said, causing Zelmira to groan.

"You mean I'll be done by my eighteenth birthday?" she asked, only just hearing Lal mention the time limit. Her ears were still ringing a bit from the loud wind she'd been subjected to.

"Yes. Now go get changed into something you don't mind ruining. I've heard Bianchi's poisons are rather corrosive." Lal replied. Zelmira sighed and wandered off in the direction of her walk-in wardrobe; she'd have to leave the shower until after her lesson with Rosalia since not only were her poisons corrosive, but they also had a tendency to leave a smell behind during the creation process; she'd had two lessons so far, so she knew from first-hand experience.

* * *

Hours later, Zelmira crawled into her bathtub with a groan...not only did every muscle in her body ache from Lal's earlier training, but her stomach was grumbling and she stunk to high heaven of the various chemicals she'd had to use to create a few of her own poisons at Rosalia's request. She was grateful that she had Elena who had known what she was doing and organised a bath for her, like she usually did on the weekends.

Tomorrow was Monday, so it was back to her normal studies, ballet and combat training; perhaps along with a bit of parkour but it depended on if her father decided to come and watch her with her newest combat tutor. She honestly wanted to know where on earth he kept digging up these tutors of hers; they were either crazy, arrogant or assholes...sometimes all three!

Shaking her head, she put it out of her mind and focused on relaxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this series. Life is so busy...I moved from New Zealand mid-September of 2017 so it's been a bit of a mess trying to organise everything and finding jobs etc.; I hope you'll forgive me. Anyway, there's one more chapter for this ficlet which is Zelmira aged 'seventeen to eighteen'...eighteen is when she first officially meets Xanxus. I hope you'll stick with me, because I'm bound to update slowly due to RL.


	3. Meeting Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own it!
> 
> A/N: This one’s probably gonna be shorter than the others but here is the final chapter of ‘It’s My Life’…this is where my lovely OC, Zelmira, meets Xanxus for the first time! Yay!

* * *

 

**_Zelmira, age eighteen_ **

 

Her birthday had come once again, and she’d officially finished her training with Lal Mirch and Rosalia Bianchi; though she’d remain in contact with the pair, especially Rosalia who was her first friend around her own age. She knew that unlike her debutante ball on her sixteenth birthday and her quieter seventeenth birthday, her father had invited a few more of the higher profile Famiglia’s. If she’d heard servant rumour right, the Vongola would be sending representatives and apparently even some of the Varia would be attending, handling security for those high profile members. She was looking forward to meeting a few of those VIPs invited to her 18th.

Tonight she was wearing a fitted gown that hugged all her curves. It was a mid-thigh length navy lace dress with long sleeves and a diamond shaped cut out on the back. Her makeup was kept minimal and natural barring a bright crimson lipstick, to contrast her dress and her heels were a pair of strappy black stilettos. She’d had a mani-pedi earlier in the day but had requested a more natural French manicure/pedicure over a bright colour; she had also decided on no jewellery besides a pair of diamond drop earrings.

With one final glance in the mirror, she smiled and nodded in approval, gave her new concave bob a final pat and walked out the door towards her father’s study where he’d asked her to meet him before they walked down the main staircase together and towards the ballroom.

“Papa?” she asked, knocking on his door.

“Come in, Zelmira.” He called out. Opening the door, she was a little surprised to see another Don there; Don Cavallone, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“I apologise for intruding.” She said, closing the door behind her.

“It’s fine, Zelmira. My business with Don Cavallone is complete anyway and we must be heading down soon. We can’t neglect the rest of our guests on such an auspicious occasion as your 18th birthday, now can we?” Luciano replied, dismissing her concerns.

“No, we cannot.” She replied as Don Cavallone stood, shook her father’s hand and departed with nod and a smile in her direction as he made his way down to join the rest of the guests. “Do you mind if I ask what that was all about?” she asked curiously, taking her father’s arm as he moved from behind his desk to stand next to her.

“We were making a trade deal. You know his son, Aldo, is married now, correct? As well as the fact that they mostly do business with the horse industry?” he asked leading her out the door.

“Of course I do; I attended Aldo’s wedding on behalf of the Famiglia.” She responded.

“Indeed you did; I was rather proud of the way you handled yourself among the members of the Vongola Alliance who were in attendance. Anyway, he required a large shipment of equipment for his Famiglia’s stables; in return we’ll be gaining five new horses, two mares, a stallion and two foals, for our own stables.” He explained.

“I see.” She mused as they descended the main staircase.

“By the way, you look particularly lovely tonight, _mia figlia_.”

“Thank you, papa.” She smiled as they reached the ballroom doors.

* * *

Taking a break from the mingling, Zelmira made her way over to the drinks table and picked up a glass of champagne. Normally she might’ve grabbed one from a passing waiter but she really needed a break from the clamouring of the VIPs attending her birthday celebration; specifically Lal’s ‘boss’ who was so full of himself that she could barely stand his presence for more than ten minutes. The fact that he kept bragging to her about his newborn ‘cute little Tuna-fishy’ only added to her headache. Taking a large sip of her drink, she sighed.

“Rough night?” a deep voice rumbled by her ear. Turning, she caught sight of a tall, tanned, raven haired man with scarlet eyes.

“You could say that.” She grumbled, turning back to the table but keeping an eye on him from the corner of her eye. He was gorgeous, there was no denying that; in fact, he looked like sex on legs and his voice practically oozed seduction.

“Maybe something stronger, then?” he suggested, holding out a glass containing what looked like whiskey on the rocks while taking a sip of his own drink.

“Whiskey, bourbon or scotch?” she asked curiously, turning to face him again.

“Whiskey.”

Putting her champagne down, she took the glass and had a quick sip. Nodding sharply, she took a mouthful and swallowed, enjoying the warmth of the alcohol sliding down her throat. Noticing the couch by the wall, she silently walked towards it and sat down with a sigh of relief, instinctively knowing he’d follow behind her. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she turned to him,

“You look familiar.”

“Can say the same.” He replied after a minute of gazing at her.

“I’m Zelmira Pasolini; birthday girl.” She replied, taking in the way his eyes widened slightly and his nostrils flared in hidden surprise.

“Xanxus of the Varia.” He said, smirking when she jerked back in shock before downing the rest of her drink and quickly standing to get an unopened bottle of whiskey from the table. Topping her glass up, she tossed it back and refilled her glass again but this time only took a sip.

“I thought you were someone I dreamed up.” She said softly.

“Not a dream. Very real.” He responded, grabbing hold of her free hand with his own after topping up his own glass.

“Apparently.” She snorted and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey again.

“Sky premonition, possibly.” He said, swallowing a mouthful of his own drink. She hummed in thought.

“Now we get to start a fire; this time for real.” She whispered softly. He grinned down at her before gripping her chin and planting a kiss at the corner of her mouth. Now this is what felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Rest assured, this isn’t the end of the series…just the end of this ficlet. I hope you enjoyed it. Oh, and the dress and diamond drop earrings she’s wearing are actually things I own. The dress is one of my favourites and super comfortable to wear and the earrings were a gift from my parents for my own 18th birthday, I think. I’d never wear stilettos though, I’d break my ankle if I tried.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I’m now working on the second…and still have to fix the timeline a bit so you’ll have to bear with me on that. Translations are below and don’t forget to REVIEW!
> 
> Translations (Italian to English...fair warning I used Google Translate, so if anything is incorrect please leave a review and let me know so I can fix it! Thanks.):
> 
> Mia figlia: My daughter  
> Mio cara: My dear  
> Ho quindici anni: I’m fifteen


End file.
